Primary Justice

7

“ABSOLUTELY NOT. UNDER NO circumstances. Good God, Kincaid, this was supposed to be a starter case. Simple and cheap. A favor.”

Derek slammed the flat of his hand against his desk. “I can’t believe this happened. I mean, Jesus, I’ve lost clients before, but not like this!”

Ben sat on his hands as Derek paraded around the office.

“How could I justify the expense? This is an adoption case, for God’s sake! Why do we need a private investigator?”

“Lieutenant Morelli told me—”

“Sure!” Derek threw his arms into the air. “Morelli would love for us to do his work for him. But we’ve got work of our own, Kincaid. Lesson one about relatives, kid. If they don’t want money, they want you to perform some legal hocus-pocus for them gratis.”

“Excuse me, sir, but it seems to me this is part of our job—”

“No. Our job was to go through the motions and generate some paperwork so a sweet old couple could try to adopt a brain-damaged wretch they found in a vacant lot. We were not asked to find a murderer, and we were not asked to cast a private dragnet for the girl’s parents, whoever they may be.” He fished around in his shirt pocket for a cigarette but didn’t find any. “Hell, for all we know, the woman may not want to adopt the kid now that … that …” He sputtered for a moment, then waved it all away with a dramatic skyward gesture.

“She does, sir. More than ever.”

“Fine. Just fine.” Derek kicked the wall next to his desk. He grimaced, then grabbed his right foot. He hobbled behind his desk and plopped down into his chair. “Sprained my ankle playing squash last night. Meant to stay off the damn thing.”

He took a deep breath and regained his train of thought. “So do the adoption. That’s your assignment. But no private investigators, no bells and whistles, no tickets to the prince’s ball, understand? I’m not even authorizing you to make long-distance phone calls.” He rubbed his ankle tenderly. “Do you have any idea what a private investigator would cost?”

“Not really, sir,” he admitted.

“Well, it’s a bundle. Let me remind you, Kincaid, that this job does not actually benefit our client or his business. It’s a charitable gesture on his part. Lots of mega-rich business types like Sanguine want to provide a little employee-oriented charity every now and then. Good for the image. Makes them feel virtuous. But they don’t like the charity to put a dent in the bottom line. You know what I mean?”

“You see, sir,” Ben started, hesitantly, “Mrs. Adams is unlikely to be permitted to adopt Emily by the Department of Public Welfare or the Department of Human services. She’s elderly, she has no child-rearing experience, and now”—he swallowed hard—“now she’s a widow. Adoption agencies have lists of hundreds of couples who satisfy every condition but who nonetheless have to wait years for a child. The only scenario I see that gives Mrs. Adams a prayer of adopting Emily is if we can tell a judge, acting as parens patriae for Emily, that Emily’s natural parents have consented to the adoption. And for that, we need to find a parent.”

Derek drummed his fingers on the table. “What makes you think you can find the parents? Do you know who they are?”

“Sir, I haven’t the slightest idea who Emily’s parents are. But Mr. Adams seemed convinced he could find out. And a few hours after he sets out to do just that, he’s murdered. Sure, maybe it’s just a hideous coincidence, but I find that hard to swallow. Lieutenant Morelli says we can help—”

“If Lieutenant Morelli wants to hire us as lawyers,” Derek interrupted, “and pay us at our usual rates, we’ll accommodate him. Tell him to give me a call—I get a hundred and eighty-five dollars an hour. Otherwise, forget it.”

Derek gently lowered his right foot to the floor. “Look, kid, I know how you feel. On his first day out of school, every new lawyer wants to be Perry Mason. You watch enough television, you start to think the job of lawyers is to solve mysteries. Well, it isn’t. The job of lawyers is to please their clients.”

Ben started to speak, but Derek stopped him with a raised finger. “If you need to do some investigating, fine. Be a lawyer. Use the traditional discovery methods set forth in the Oklahoma Rules of Civil Procedure. But don’t forget about the number of hours this firm expects you to bill. I think Joseph Sanguine will accept five, maybe eight hours being billed to him for this matter. More than that, he’ll balk. So will I.”

Ben opened his mouth to respond. Again, the upraised finger stopped him.

“That’s it, Kincaid. I’ve had two new files placed on your desk, and I want you to be up-to-snuff on them tomorrow morning. One of them involves a motion for preliminary injunction with a very short fuse. It’s another Sanguine matter. We’ve asked for an expedited schedule because of the so-called looming threat of economic disaster by trade dress infringement. Our reply brief is due Monday. That means I want to see it Friday. Early.”

He waved his hand at Ben in a dismissing gesture. “You’ve got a lot to do, Kincaid. So get to work.” Derek pointed at the door.

Clenching his teeth tightly, Ben walked out of Derek’s office.